The Blue Hour
by AmandaJoywrites
Summary: When I asked to be changed, I thought the vampires would kill me on the spot. Even after I got inside Aros mind, I had my doubts. No matter what Adrien once told me about the change, once the burning started, I thought they were burning me alive instead.
1. Preface

Some say the world will end in fire; Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire I hold with _those who favor fire_.  
But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate  
To know that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

**-Robert Frost**

-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-

**Preface**

I've accepted the state of my life since I was about five. No parents, no family except the fosters until Aunt Alyssa found me, no friends, and really, besides school and track there was nothing for me to live for. That sounds depressing—no, _I _sound depressed, or suicidal, or something, but I wasn't. I was just…indifferent. I thought that I'd feel the same way about death; I would accept it and move along to whatever was waiting for me in the afterlife, if there even was one.

But now? Now I'm not. Maybe I could if it was only my death, but taking thirteen other people down with me is not an option. Adrien always told me he'd follow me anywhere, but he never wanted me to make that decision for him. Except I _would_ end up following Adrien, but I would have to leave him also. The Cullens told me one of the Volturi was a collector of sorts and if he ever got a good look at my mind, things could go one of two ways--each centering on my willingness to change. We were hoping for neither of those options.

And now I plan on going against all the things we've discussed--making an option of my own.

A cloud passes overhead and I turn on my side to look at him. We were lying a couple feet apart; not touching ye, but still together and bonded tighter mentally than anything physical could give. I stretched my hand out and wrapped my fingers up in his. Adrien smiled and squeezed my hand as tightly as he could without shattering my bones, but he didn't look happy. I rolled toward him; maybe there was something I could do or say that would make the day pass faster while we waited. But once nestled into the his arms there was nothing I could think of that could make a difference; Adrien was afraid, just like me. Only he was afraid for me and I was afraid of what I'd soon do to him.

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**A/N: Blue Hour is a Twilight fic with two totally different main characters (and their love story) but you'll see, once you read this, that the Cullens and other Twilight Saga characters will be in this story. I do not own them (though getting the rights to Twilight would be pretty wicked!!!), but I do own the new characters.**

**_A note on the title_: It comes from the French Expression "l'heure bleue" that refers to twilight, the period of each morning where it is neither full daylight or darkness, and in summer it's the time when flowers are especially fragrant.**

**I hope you like this!**

**Oh, and the main character's name is Ryanne if you were wondering.**

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	2. Chapter 1: The Move

**Chapter One: The Move**

When my mother was alive, she would have told me not to trust Aunt Alyssa. Not when she first visited Mr. & Mrs. Kent, not during the custody trials, and not even on the plane ride across the country to Washington. But then again, my mother trusted no one. She was emancipated from her parents the day she turned sixteen, changed her name, and ran away with my father. And they ran from large city to even larger city, even after they had me, until I was five.

Michelle, my mother died at twenty four and my father, Daniel, at twenty six, right in front of me, and in each other's arms. It's a beautifully tragic love story if you scratch the surface—they loved each other, he was perfect to her, even leaving his family and life behind because of her fears, and their daughter was horribly spoiled because somehow he had gobs of money—but extremely depressing if you dig deeper. Because it was only us three, no family and Mom didn't allow friends or extensive relationships with anyone.

And there was always the running, though I've got no idea who we were running from. But she couldn't stay in one city for over five months and some places even less.

If I remember correctly, my caseworker said she must have had paranoid schizophrenia, but I have no signs of any psychological disorders, so my father must have just been crazy in love.

There were no missing persons investigations started for them, so looking for any family I might've had was a crapshoot and off to foster care I went. Mr. and Mrs. Kent were the latest in my string of houses where I was more of a burden than someone to love and, least of all, like. The Kent's were the best I'd ever had and I'm sure they would have kept me for longer than the four months I stayed there.

We heading out to register at my new high school, a massive place I could get lost in, housing two thousand students, when the call came. The call that said I might have an aunt and they wanted to do a DNA test as soon as possible.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind, especially when I stepped in the room to meet her and Alyssa called out Michelle. And I was decided when her eyes caught the light, flashed green, and when she looked back at me they were blue again, just like my own. After that and the black hair (also like mine), I knew I would trust her. I'd lost hope so many years ago and finding a sliver of it, I just wanted to hold despite all my mother taught me.

I trusted Alyssa when she gained custody and even when she explained that she lived in town whose population was pushing three thousand. I was secure where I lived now, Chicago a city with almost three million anonymous faces running about. One out of three million and one out of four thousand are two different things.

"It'll be such a change of pace for you, Ryan," Alyssa started once we left the airport terminal and started toward her car, "You mom love it here until she—I just know you'll learn to love life in a small town. Plus, Seattle _is_ close."

Alyssa was slight, like me and like my mother had been, but if the car she rented in Chicago was any indication, she liked large trucks. So I suspected her car would be more like a monster truck than anything I would have chosen.

I didn't answer but Alyssa just trudged on and I was thankful for it. If her constant chatter couldn't fill the inescapable silence that I carry around wherever I go, I have no idea what could.

"We could make a trip out of it this weekend, and since you won't start school until Monday and I took the rest of the week off, we've got plenty of time," she twittered, then discussed the minor details of a day of shopping under her breath. I cast a sidelong glance at her. We may look alike, though she was much more put together than I can even fathom, but our personalities are totally different.

I'm not the type to twitter, squeak, or bounce on the balls of my feet in excitement for _anything_. Even our postures contrasted. She waved her hands around her, gesturing with relaxed confidence, while (and I know this because I'm very conscience of the way I look and it's all deliberate) I curl in on myself with my hands dug into my pockets, a perfect picture of insecurity.

"You don't have to buy me anything else," I protested suddenly. She'd already gone behind my back and bought a car—a tiny black used Toyota Prius, which is exactly what I would have chosen—when we were in Chicago. She's obviously a very compulsive person, or at least compulsive buyer, because two days after the trial ended she showed up at the Kents' with it. Her only explanation for the buy was that she wouldn't want me to have to drive to school with the school counselor.

"But you're my niece, Ryan—the only family I have," she pouted and I flushed, remember that since five years ago, Alyssa had been alone just like me. Her parents—my grandparents—died within ten months of each other five years ago and since then, all she set her mind to was find her older sister and got her seventeen year old daughter instead. "Who else can I spoil?"

I still couldn't get used to anyone buying me anything without it being grudgingly done. "But I've got plenty of things."

"You've got three bags, Ryanne," she narrowed her eyes at me and shook her head. But the bags were chock full of jeans, t-shirts, and sweaters. I didn't _need _anything else, except maybe a new iPod, since my old one was stolen right out of my purse during one late-night train ride, but I have enough money in my bank account for that.

"I've got enough, Alyssa," I paused as she narrowed her eyes even further, "really. I do."

"We'll just window shop, then. And if you happen to notice anything…," she slowed her peppy stride and grinned, "Here we are."

It was a dark red, brownish from dirt, Land Rover that dwarfed both of us. We climbed in after stuffing my bags in the back and Alyssa didn't continue her chatter throughout the two hour ride to Bishop, the little town East of Seattle that sat in a valley between two huge mountains. She turned on a light rock station and quietly murmured along with it.

I tried to close my eyes to the green moss coated slabs of rock alongside the expressway and the mountains that rose out into the misty blue sky, but it was too pretty to hate. I did miss the churning industrial life that was Chicago, but this was something I could get used to. I felt like my lungs would finally clear of all the sludge that's probably clogged them up from years of living in a metropolitan area and all this open land to run was promising.

There was no sun—and this was all year round, since it rains almost every day here, or so says Google—and plenty of humidity, but my hair always hangs limply down my back no matter what I do to it, so that wouldn't be a problem.

"There are plenty of trails through Mount Baker," Alyssa mentioned—Mount Baker, meaning the forest surrounding Bishop—as we finally exited the highway. "One starts, or ends depending on the way you look at it, right next to the house. It's about a six mile loop, I think. Hopefully I got the scale right on those maps."

"That's great," I answered, with genuine excitement. A nice long run was just what I needed, but unfortunately I didn't expect Alyssa to let me go gallivanting into the forest just yet.

We were coming into town now and I knew that the street we were on was the main hub of the town. There was a small grocer, a Walgreens, Wayne's Hardware, and a few tiny specialty stores. So besides the grocery store and Walgreens, I wouldn't be making any treks into town.

"If you keep going down this street, the schools only five minutes away," she started to change lanes but hesitated, "If you want to see it right now, I can swing by. School gets out in a few minutes actually; I could give you a tour and map out routes to your classes."

"That's okay," I protested quickly, while she still had time to get into the turning lane. I'd already scoped out the school on Google Earth weeks ago and her house, so I know just once she turned we were close.

Oddly, even though I've changed homes more times than some army brats, a tight ball of nerves expanded to fill my stomach. I'd live here for the next year at least and it was just us two. Besides bits and pieces and one memory that was burnt into my mind like a brand, I have no idea what it'll be like living with someone who actually gives a damn.

Yes, I've had foster parents who were up there with the best then, and I have no horror stories about any people I've lived with; a lack of love is intangible, but it felt as palpable as any object I can pick up and toss around in my hands. What would it be like to live with someone who would probably care when I took midnight runs whenever I have a bad dream?

Fortunately any of the other reasons I keep strange hours (early morning coffee trips, staying out late just to watch the lights get brighter on the Chicago skyline, and trips to the beach even later at night because then I could almost pretend Lake Michigan was an Ocean and if I floated across it long enough, I'd end up on the shore of a foreign land) wouldn't be a problem here.

There was a lake around here, but it wasn't a very large one and I can't see it being as inviting as Lake Michigan. Actually, I can't imagine anything here being as inviting as the most mundane destination in Chicago, but I am biased.

The home was a Tudor-style cottage with dark green ivy creeping up the west side of the house that looked much too large for one person, but then again, this is the home she grew up in. My _mom_ grew up in this house, but I wouldn't dwell on that. She was long gone now and if anything, her having grown up here only made the fact that I ended up here seem _right_.

The houses weren't packed together here and I had to bet we were a mile from any other houses all the way around. Alyssa pulled into the driveway and parked next my new car. "Here we are."

The bedroom had dark wood floors, pale green painted walls, and Pottery-Barn-new furniture. My gasp was audible after a second glance around the room; on the desk there was a little light green laptop, a black and red box that had the T-Mobile logo printed on the side, and an assortment of school supplies.

"You really shouldn't have," I blurted with my hands at my throat. My bags were long forgotten around me feet. A moment later, while I was still frozen, Alyssa trudged in, scooped up my, meager in her eyes, bags and dumped them on the beautifully made up mahogany four poster bed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ryan," she paused and for the tenth time asked me, "you do like to be called that right? Not Ryanne, Ry, or Anne, right?"

"I prefer Ryan, but Ry is fine and just not _Anne_," I answered like a robot and continued staring. "But seriously, this is too much. It's perfect, but I've never—I don't need all this—"

She glanced past me, nibbling on her bottom lip, "Michelle left when I was fourteen and when she left my parents were so angry…they got rid of her old things, furniture included, and converted her room into an office, so I had to buy new things. I thought you'd like the green; you wore a green top the day we met and—"

"I did," I sputtered. I remember being shrouded in all dark colors that day, as per usual. I remember Alyssa's face making something like a balloon swell up in my chest and remember my mother's voice. There was also her hugging me and Mrs. Kent mentioning that we were like mirror images of each other.

"Yes, well, it was just an undershirt peaking out of your sweater, but I couldn't very well paint the room black," she prattled on and started toward the desk, "Since I don't have a desktop, and you'll need a computer for school, the laptop was a must, along with a cell phone."

"But really, Alyssa," I muttered. My eyes were burning and I finally took a few mechanical steps over to the bed. The down comforter was cool and fluffy under my fingertips, just begging to for someone to crawl under it and slip into a dreamless slumber.

Her eyes widened with genuine concern—another foreign thing I'd have to deal with—but instead of pressing me, Alyssa backed out of the room. "The bathroom's just across the hall; you'll have it to yourself...I'll just let you get acquainted."

A normal person might've tested out the bed, ran their fingers over the dust-free shelves, opened the box to their new cell phone, or checked out their new computer, but no, not me. I went to work, pulling out the clothes I needed to hang up and stuffing most of my stuff—meaning t-shirts, mesh shorts, Under Armor, and underwear—into the dresser.

My last few months in Chicago, I decided to take a photography class so I could take a few decent photos of my favorite spots; including Adler Planetarium, the Ferris wheel all lit up at night, and the Observatory. I tacked them up above the desk, where they were perfectly visible from any angle in the room.

I appeared downstairs about an hour later, in shorts and a windbreaker, which wasn't exactly in the best condition, with my old iPod mini in my palm. I noticed Alyssa narrow her eyes at it—and my old Nike's, coated with a layer of grime so thick the previous pink is now an unattractive puce—and then smirk. Surely she was planning all she had to buy once she convinced me to take the trip to Seattle.

"I was going to take a run, if that's alright with you, I mean," I stumbled over the words and cleared my throat; my vocal chords were dry as sandpaper from the lack of use.

Alyssa was bent over a bowl filled with what looked like cake frosting, and the smell of a cake baking had wafted up the stairs while I dug through my things. "Sure thing, just…I've got a compass here somewhere. If you go off any of the paths, travel west until you meet it again—they're all marked by color and number."

She started rummaging through a drawer next to the oven. And honestly, I'm surprised she didn't pull out a map and trace out routes for me. That's the type I pegged Alyssa for—an over-worrier—but, I guess I was wrong.

"You can keep this," she held up a long silver chair with a heavy, round black locket on the end. Alyssa looped it around my neck, pressed a notch on the side and the top swung open, revealing a tiny compass.

"Thanks," I answered grudgingly, mostly because I wished she'd stop giving me all this stuff, even though, this time, it was just an old compass. "I should be back in, um, an hour or so."

"Great," she piped, before turning back to her baking, "I should have dinner sewn up by then…Have a nice run!"

Well, she hadn't proven me wrong about the peppiness.

There was a sliding glass door between the kitchen and den. The backyard was mainly—or only—a large expanse of bright green grass with two white birch trees on either side of the yard. I started toward the thickly clumped trees hoping a path would become apparent soon.

Thirty four was marked on a post in shiny blue letters and the path wasn't paved, but lined with moss, flattened grass, and dirt.

I pushed the headphones into my ears and started with a leisurely jog. Two more songs and I'd start sprinting. As I traveled farther on the path, things outside of my headphones got quieter and quieter. After the first three miles, I realized I should have taken a water bottle. My throat felt like someone stuffed a white hot stick of metal down it.

And it had only been about twenty two minutes.

I found a tree and slipped down to the base of it. I turned my iPod off and pulled off my headphones, thinking they were muffling all the sounds that should have been mingling around me. Wrong.

It was deathly quiet. And I may be a city girl, but I knew what it meant when all life seems to have deserted an area—danger. A shiver of disquiet—and if I'm being truthful, it was really purely fear—rolled up and down my spine and within that same moment I was on my feet.

All thoughts were left behind as I sprinted back in the direction I came from. All I could picture was a pack of wolves devouring my innards. Of course I didn't make it all the way back to Alyssa's house sprinting, but once I felt far enough from danger, I slowed down, mostly because I thought my heart would overheat.

"How was your run," Alyssa asked when I stepped back into the kitchen; the shirt I had under my jacket was drenched in sweat, but she couldn't see that.

"Great," I called back, already halfway up the steps, and was shivering in scalding water five minutes later.

**A/N: I decided to cut the original chapter in half. It was a monstrous thing.**


	3. Chapter 2: Triplets and Upcoming Physics

**A/N: I cut the original chapter in half, so some readers may have read this already. Nothing changed so you can just bypass it. :)**

**Chapter Two: Triplets & Upcoming Physics.**

The trip to Seattle was too short. Monday came too soon. And I still hadn't ventured back down the path behind the house. Maybe I could handle it if I hadn't waited it out so long, because now my imagination had ran wild with all the possible predator-hybrids running around in Washington's forests.

The jeans Alyssa insisted on buying me and insisted on making me wear were just a smidge too trendy for my taste; plus they were tight. But I once she left for school—having to teach an early period—I pulled an oversized hoodie over my tee. It was functional too; I could stuff my hair into it _and_ pull it over my face if the whole "look, there's a shiny new student" routine became too much to handle.

There was a granola bar and a Gatorade on the counter. On top of the Gatorade was a post-it note with a smiley face and a room number on it. Just in case, and I'm quoting Alyssa from last night's dinner of chicken fajitas, I "have any issues at all, just head to my room and we'll get everything straightened out".

See? She is too sweet.

Even more abysmal than the fact that I actually have to start school today is the fact that it's rainy; the kind of drizzle that'll ruin even my perpetually straight hair. I slipped into the—I mean, my—car and flicked on the windshield wipers before backing out the driveway.

The quick ride to Bishop Community High School was quick and had nothing that could have helped eat away at the ball of nerves in my abdomen. It was a long, flat, red brick building with a series of windows in the front and everything looked a little damp, but that might've been because of the rain—translation: absolutely no personality to this place.

School had already been in session for two weeks, meaning all social circles were closed up—not that I'd usually give a care about social circles, but in a school with hardly four hundred students, you've got to have _some_ friends. Anonymity wouldn't be possible here.

Plus, who knows how many of these people will know exactly who I am as soon as they seem my face? How many of their parents went to school with my mother and know about Alyssa adopting me?

I parked in a spot close to the front entrance, because Alyssa said it was a straight shot from that door to the main office—the first of many stops in my day—and most of the spots on the other side of the lot were taken.

Though it as damp and drafty outside, once I stepped inside the school the sweatshirt I had on felt stuffy and I knew I'd have to take it off sometime soon or cook. The heat was cranked way up.

I headed straight for the first door on the right, proclaiming, in pealing white paint, that it was in fact the "MAIN OFFICE".

The two secretaries at the long oak desk were like night in day. One had long white hair tucked under a bright yellow headband that clashed with her mustard-colored pant suit. And the other looked at the most twenty five, with a pale blond trendy page boy cut and a dark blue sweater dress that brought out her sapphire eyes.

I lifted a hand and gave an awkward half-wave. "Hi, um, I'm Ryanne Alexander—"

"Goodness, Ms. Alexander wasn't exaggerating—you could _be_ Michelle," the older woman blurted and there was only a moment where my mouth hung ajar, because I made sure to clear my face of all emotion. She'd be even more guilty if all the discomfort I was feeling was plain as day on my face.

But she just kept on staring at me, like a ghost risen from the dead, which is probably what I seem like to her.

The other secretary took over, and thank goodness, because in the next five seconds I planned on backing out of here if I had to keep watching this woman gawk at me. "Hello Ryanne, I'm Ms. Coradetti. We've been expecting you."

Okay, so that was creepy, but her nervous laugh kept me from bolting out of there immediately. "Um, hi."

"I've got your schedule right new and there's a map attached, with your classrooms highlighted in yellow and the routes you can take to them in green," she explained, handing me a packet of papers. "The blue sheet if for all your teachers to sign, in case they have any comments or concerns, which I'm sure they won't."

I nodded and pretended to be flipping through the sheets, while really, I was just itching to get out of there. "Make sure to bring that blue sheet back at the end of the day. The last sheet just lists some school policies for you to review when you get a chance—your basic run of the mill stuff."

"Thank you," I mumbled and started to turn.

"Ryanne," Mrs. Rozak, or so said the name plate on her desk, called, "Have a pleasant day."

"Thanks, you too," I mumbled before turning and taking a few stiff steps out the tiny office.

I breathed a sigh of relief and flipped open the packet, searching for my first class—English in the classroom across from Alyssa's office—when I felt that prickly sensation everyone gets when they know they're being watched. It was multiplied exponentially and when I looked up from my blind stroll down the hallway.

About ninety percent of the fifty students in the hallway were staring straight at me—and the other ten were murmuring something to their friends about _me_—and warmth flooded my face after I bent back down to study my map. I looked like such a charity case, so there was really nothing to do about the lanky, dirty blonde kid who approached me.

Actually, I'm sure he was my age; the adolescent acne he's probably had to deal with for years now is receding, his long hair curls nicely around his slightly pronounced cheekbones, and he walks with the self-assurance that only upperclassmen have.

"Uh, hey," I stopped when he stepped right in front of me, "I'm David, but everyone, um, everyone calls me Dave."

"Ryan," I answered, even though he didn't ask. I had to look straight up to get a glimpse of his face. Definitely cute, and tall, but slightly muscled—he was probably a commodity here. Nothing especially wowing, but he might be nice. "It's nice to meet you."

"Er, you're Ms. Alexander's niece, right?" His shoulders curved inward and he was definitely embarrassed to ask. Once I nodded he grinned; one tooth in the front of his mouth was chipped. "Do you need help getting to your first class?"

"Um," I paused, because I couldn't very well say "no, I really don't want help; I prefer to wander around aimlessly until I find the right place", so I smiled slightly and said, "Yeah, I'm actually kind of lost, even though my aunt gave me a tour over the weekend."

"Oh, don't worry about it," he started, as I passed him my schedule, "it's a small school, but it's just as confusing as any large ones. Where are you from again?"

I never offered it, but he did offer his help and I _should_ be nice. "Chicago," I answered and tuned out while he jabbered on about how _different_ it must be here, but how I'd _eventually_ adjust. He was nice—just not my cup of tea.

And neither was his girlfriend, Erin. I sat in the only empty desk, behind David and right next to Erin—blonde and bubbly, but that wasn't her problem. What was her issue were the condescending looks she gave every girl who walked in the class and didn't greet her personally, but did give her boyfriend a cool onceover. Erin had a mean streak.

The teacher still hadn't appeared yet and Erin slid my schedule back across my desk. "We've got the next two classes together, and then physics after lunch," she paused and sounded a little sour during the last bit, "You've got gym with David and his bestfriend Elliot. I'll introduce you to everyone next period; this class is kind of empty."

While I could—and I really wanted to—reject her offer, socially isolating myself this early in the year didn't seem like a good idea. I smirked at her, and though we were smiling at two different things, she seemed genuinely pleased. And Erin had a nice smile; I could see why Dave liked her.

And none of the twenty other students milling around the classroom, staring _at_ me and talking about _me_, decided to approach me—though there was this petite girl in the front who kept turning around in her seat to glance at me, with a look like regret, and another guy with dark caramel skin and long black curly hair stared intently at me when we entered—so, why push Erin and Dave away?

"Sure," I answered, just before a flurry of papers, red hair, and an ill-fitting suit entered and following her was someone holding a towering stack of what could either be dictionaries or a complete collection of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. I heard Erin sigh beside me and realized the guy holding all those books had to be a body builder.

But he wasn't; he was—

Some detached part of my brain heard Erin chuckle at my very audible gasp. This boy…no, that's wrong. If I didn't want to sound like a freak, I'd turn and ask Erin whether or not he was a fallen archangel—no lie. But I couldn't do that. For a long time, I was simply paralyzed.

His skin was chalky white, like he had no blood running through his veins and spent all of his free time locked inside a dark closet. Long white-blonde hair tumbled down to his shoulders in loose waves that shone white in the unflattering fluorescent lights. He was still standing at the front of the room when his head swiveled around.

The delicate bone structure and gilded—which is weird because, I've lived in the largest city in the Midwest for all my life and I've never seen anyone with gold eyes, but I come to this speck of a town and find, well, near perfection—eyes were so foreign, more akin to a medieval prince than a senior in high school. He was more beautiful, than hot or sexy, even though he could be called all three. When his eyes zeroed in on me, I suddenly thought that all scientific research was about to be disproven. It was in fact true that a body could spontaneously combust with one casual glance.

But, just as my body temperature started to skyrocket, he shifted away from me and my view of his face was obscured. I wanted to study it, to catalog every inch of his face—I wish I possessed one once of artistic ability, so that I could sketch him. I'd never get it right of course, but that was beside the point.

Also, some sick part of me wanted to figure out the flaw. Because there had to be one and it must have been too obvious for me to notice.

"Thank you, Darien," someone said—no, wait, it was the teacher. I just hadn't glanced at her since he entered.

I realized the only other desk open in the class was right next to Dave, which was totally perfect, because I could at least admire the back of his head without seeming stalker-ish—and I'm sure Erin feels the same way; no matter how much she loves her boyfriend, this Darien was at least great to look at.

"No problem, Mrs. Rasmas," Darien murmured in a smooth baritone and slipped between the rows of desks to his seat. I tried not to stare, totally in rapture, because his t-shirt was thin and just tight enough so I could see tight sinuous muscles ripple in his chest and abs.

I chewed on the side of my mouth to keep my concentration up. And good thing too, because Mrs. Rasmas finally faced the class and a look of confusion swept over her face. "Oh, um, class, we've got a new student today!"

She clapped her tiny hands together, "I'm sure all of you have been taught by Mrs. Alexander before…Ryanne is her niece. Why don't you stand up and introduce yourself to the class?"

Well, her misguided excitement would at least make the class memorable. I slipped out of my desk and tried to make sure not to trip on one of the chair's legs, because, though I'm not clumsy, it's just the type of scene that'd ruin my day.

"Um, my name's Ryanne Alexander"—the last name was new and kind of weird to hear myself say out loud—"but I prefer Ryan. I'm from, uh, Chicago," I paused and made the mistake of glancing down at Darien's upturned face, because my blush deepened instantaneously.

"I used to run Track and Cross Country at my old school," I finished in a rush and sunk as deeply back into my desk as possible.

"Thank you, Ryan," Mrs. Rasmas beamed. She passed a syllabus and class policy sheet back to my desk and turned to write something on the board.

I was relatively sure I'd been correct about the books. There were three Shakespearean tragedies on the reading list and a few sonnets.

"Today I'd like everyone to read the first and second Acts of Othello. At the end of class I'll pass out a list of review questions for you to finish for homework," she motioned to the stack of books on her desk, "Everyone in the front, grab enough books for everyone in your row and pass them back."

Boring, but still nothing new, though it's not like I expected Bishop Community High School to toss out anything too daunting at me, considering I've attended schools in twelve districts in Chicago…and I've read Othello—twice.

--

Faces became blurs and streaks of colors throughout the next two periods with Erin and David. Spanish I was toted like a designer bag and in Precalc she showed me off like a shiny new toy. Only a few stood out, but still not like Darien in English.

There was Elliot who met us outside of first period and whose wandering beady black eyes made my skin crawl—and vow to never wear these jeans again, no matter how much coercing Alyssa tried. And gorgeous Rachel, curvy Brittany, and petite Erica who preened and picked at my hair like a gang of peppy parakeets.

But they were all in a different side of the building for my next two classes—Economics and my elective, Creative Writing—so, in a very fortunate turn of events, I was alone for the first time since I left the office.

Not that I was actually alone. Once I slipped into Economics, late because I didn't realize the numbers were flipped on this wing of the building, every head swiveled in my direction at the same time—maybe they were all robots, running on the same timetable—and the teacher, Mr. Cush, made me introduce myself on the spot, even though I'd just gotten through walking outside on the short path that took you from wing-to-wing and my hair was dripping.

My speech was exactly the same including all the pauses, um's and uh's, with no time to work on new material between English and now, and I'm sure a few people noticed it.

The bell rung after an hour long lecture on simple supply and demand and I was caught up in a crowd of people that carried me all the way to the cafeteria. There was no time for me to spin around and make a make dash for the library, because Erin was only three tables away and calling my name as if I was hearing impaired.

"Told you I'd meet you in the caf," she piped when she finally got to my side—and _dear lord_ was she hyper—and looped her arm around mine, "The special today's pizza, but they've got sandwiches, soup, and salad too…," she paused and a look of distress crossed her face, "unless you brought your lunch."

"No, I'm buying," I answered quickly. Actually, I left the left I packed last night in the back seat of my car and the sandwich was probably soggy by now anyway.

I tried hard to ignore the staring—really I did. But it seemed like there were thousands of miniscule critters creeping up and down my body and making extra sensitive. And the murmuring that quieted when I got closer and rose even louder once I was a safe distance away was annoying too.

When we sat back down at the table, me with pizza and fries and Erin with a caesar salad, it was like an exact repeat of my day so far. Names and faces that just would not make any impression on my brain; apparently Erin and David have a lot of friends. I tried to smile at everyone and take small bites of my pizza until it was over.

There was something I wanted to ask and I was just biding my time until I got an opening. And once David got up to run to the bathroom, I dived right in, with no embarrassment at all, because I just had to know.

I leaned over, not so far as to attract much attention, but far enough. "So about Darien…um," I stopped. What did I really want to know? His whole life story? Surely she wouldn't know that. Maybe why he sped out of first period so fast watching him almost gave me whiplash?

"Honestly I'm surprised it took you this long to ask about the Powers," she stopped and smirked. The questions must have been written all over my face by then. "Turn your chair to the left a bit and then straight ahead. You'll see them all."

All? There were three people who somehow resembled Darien here? In one tiny little school? But I didn't voice these out loud—I was too eager. Because she was right; yes, they were all just as beautiful.

"The girl on the right is Grace Isabella Powers, you've already met Darien William Powers, and the boy in the middle is," she paused and sounded just a bit breathless when saying his name, "Adrien Sinclair Powers. They're triplets—all adopted too."

Why she knew and felt the need to say all of their names, I'll never know. I do know it made her little speech more interesting, plus all their names were so fitting, I could appreciate it. The girl, whose waist length obsidian waves had more life than my hair ever would, stood up with a red apple in her palm and strolled to the garbage to toss it.

She had a lope like a female lioness and curves like a Victoria's Secret model. But when she turned, I was even more surprised. Wide doe-like eyes, just a degree darker than Darien's were framed by long black lashes, and bee-stung lips made my chest tighten. Every girl in here must look like plain Jane when compared to this goddess.

I leaned forward, expecting to do another close study of Darien, but my eyes travelled to Adrien instead. The profile I glimpsed earlier hadn't done him justice, because now I could see him fully as he turned toward me and if this had been a cartoon, a twelve foot tongue would have rolled out my mouth while I drooled at him.

"Oh," I mumbled, in a somewhat dream-like state.

A wave of rouge washed over my face, but I could help but stare right back at him. His face was very angular, the light casting shadows all over his face. With his jaws clenched his cheekbones could probably shatter glass. Adrien's eyes were a dark caramelly gold and the shock of inky blue-black hair—so dark when next to his snow white skin—was pushed off his forehead, but fell into his eyes when (and I might be imagining this) he leaned forward toward me with his eyes narrowed further.

_Adrien Sinclair Powers_, I thought, wishing I could say it aloud and hear his name on roll off my lips. He shifted and I wondered if I'd said it out loud. That finally snapped me out of my trance and I dropped my shoulder, letting my dark hair tumble forward and obscure my face.

"Don't worry," Erin chuckled, "that's the usual reaction."

"How long did I stare at him," I hissed, with my face still turned toward my lap.

"You mean how long did he stare at you? Cause he still is," she sounded bemused, and even a little offended, "Congratulations. Adrien never notices, let alone stares, at anyone."

"He's still…watching me," I whispered, debating internally whether or not I should chance a peek through my hair.

"No—they all are now. And Darien's saying something," Erin muttered something unintelligible under her breath, "Okay; I'm going to stop watching, because this is odd."

"Good," I huffed out in a loud breath. But now, instead of the prickly feeling I had earlier from everyone watching me, it felt like every nerve on my body was on fire—like live electricity running through my veins.

"Not good, really, because, you know, Adrien's in our Physic's class next, and unless Mr. Krueger changes everyone's seats—which I'm sure he won't—you're Adrien's lab partner for the whole year," Erin said. There was a little humor in her voice and something else I didn't care to identify.

I was too busy worrying what my nerves would be like if I had to sit right next to Adrien Sinclair Powers—the whole name thing is actually kind of contagious—all period long.

"Oh yeah," she blurted, like suddenly remembering something arbitrary, "he might be in your gym class too, now that I think about it."

_Great._

_--_

_A/N: This is the second half of the original first chapter for anyone who's already started the story._


	4. Chapter 3: The Beauty and the Beast

**Chapter 3: The Beauty & the Beast**

I may have looked a little frightened at the prospect of sitting next to Adrien all period, or so says Erin, but that's just because I'll inadvertently make a fool of myself and Adrien's critical glance from earlier will probably become even more pointed. Unfortunately there was nothing to do. Once the shrill bells rung overhead I was pulled through the crowd toward my next class.

Most of the class was filed up once we entered the class, Erin on one side and David on the other, and the teacher stood at the front surveying the class with something like content disdain.

I pulled the blue sheet out of my back pocket, now folded into a little triangle with tight pointy corners. At first glance I didn't see Adrien and so I studied the sheet as long as I could before approaching Mr. Krueger, whose greasy cowlick would seem more appropriate on a fourteen year old than a Physics teacher.

"Um, hello Mr. Krueger, I'm new," I pushed the paper into his hands and studied my plain black flats, hoping he'd get that I didn't feel like another tedious introduction.

"Of course—you're Ms. Alexander's niece," Krueger said brightly, smiling, not down at me, but at the paper in his hands. "I only have one seat open in the back left corner of the classroom. Your lab partner Adrien"—and this is the part where I cringe and hope nobody else noticed it—"can answer any questions you have. I'll get this back to you at the end of class."

Well _that_ was surprisingly trouble free. And odd. But there were other matters weighing down my mental platter. The class was set up in two parallel rows of lab tables for two and my procession down the middle of the two was watched by all—except Adrien that is. In the dark corner of the room—the lighting was much worse in the back half of the classroom, I noticed like one might notice a one degree shift in the weather—Adrien's pale face glowed. Well, the left side of his face, since he was staring away from me with disinterest.

Fortunately I couldn't see the rest of his face, because that might have resulted in a majorly embarrassing face-plant. But somehow his hair caught the light and I found another reason to stare in rapture at Adrien. Who knew jet black could be so multi-faceted? Who knew a person—?

Person? That's debatable. Maybe they were angels fallen from heaven, or Greek Gods. If the perfect symmetry of his face was any clue, they very well could be. I hadn't even paused to study the rest of his body and even when I tried to, I was stuck wishing he'd turn toward me and then praying to God he would not.

What the weirdest thing was that as attracted I'd been to Darien earlier, it seemed inconsequential when compared to my current infatuation with Adrien. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if I looked down and there was a rope wrapped around my abdomen _drawing_ me toward his—our—desk.

I did expect Adrien to lift his head, or _something_ to acknowledge my presence before I sat down. No such luck.

I was conscious of the fact that Mr. Krueger started writing something on the board and I started to reach down into my book bag for a notebook to copy the notes he was scribbling on the board when something possessed me to open my mouth.

"Um, hi—hello—I'm Ryan and I guess we'll be lab partners for—," I started and the ability to form a coherent sentence was suddenly lost to me. His curt nod that was somehow fluid and stiff at the same time cut me off in mid-sentence.

I paused—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—for at least twenty seconds and really couldn't help it when I spoke again, because some things are just common courtesy. Also, my anger was reaching a dangerously high level and who knew what would happen once I reached my breaking point. "Well…aren't you going to, you know, introduce yourself?"

He finally turned toward me, every sharp angle of his face creating shadows. For a second I debated the propriety of my earlier statement—maybe he was mute, or severely timid? But he was taking to his brother and sister at lunch, right?

There was also the fact that power radiated from his body, as potent as any fragrance. He could have been a prince whose very glance could send me to a public execution, or a particularly cruel high school student whose contempt could make you want to fade from existence.

"Excuse me," the words rolled off Adrien's tongue and I want to say I wasn't looking at his mouth while he spoke, because I was just so pissed off right now, but I was. And that made me even angrier.

But they were so full, and the way they were pressed together while he glared at me made them the shape of a heart, and then the color was red wine. His eyes were Werther's caramels, his lips were a spilled wine stain, and his skin the color of pure white powdered sugar.

Except, as much as I was begging time to stop so I could study him just a bit more—to see what I could compare the texture of his skin to, and know whether or not his eyelashes were really _that _long—I couldn't let that distract me now.

"I _said_ that you could at least introduce yourself, since we're going to be partners for the rest of the year," I grumbled, and instead of blushing, like the first time I saw Adrien, my face was red with anger, "You know, just be polite."

"What purpose would that serve? I'm sure you know my name; I'm sure your friend, who's currently trying to eavesdrop now, told you various things about me, none of which I care to think about," he paused and while his lips stayed shut, a smirk curved them upwards, making dimples in each of his cheeks appear, giving his strong features a childlike quality. "Actually, I have no idea why I'm bothering wasting my breath right now."

My sharp intake of breath was loud after he chuckled—such an unfortunately pleasant sound that made gooseflesh rise on my forearms—and I was strongly compelled to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze.

But I didn't do that. I shifted my red tinged gaze three seats up, towards Erin, and my jaw dropped. She was completely turned around in her seat, staring wide-eyed at us. Or probably Adrien, because, really, who'd stare at me when he was nearby?

I shifted back toward Adrien; he seemed to be staring at me, waiting for some sort of reaction. "Well, yeah, I know your name, but why do that and Erin's eavesdropping give you an excuse to be rude?"

Aha! A reaction. But after his eyebrows rose into his mussed hair, his face was back neutral in a flash. "Why not perpetuate the image already painted in your head? I can't help but think you expected this reaction when you walked in the classroom."

What exactly was he getting at? "The only image of you I've got in my head is the one in front of—next to—me. I have got no idea what you're talking about."

"So Erin's been too caught up in her budding romance with David for introductions," he murmured and I swear I've never heard anyone _murmur_ in a voice coated so thickly with disdain.

I was immediately put off by it. "So you prefer when gossip is used to form all opinions about you, rather than actually addressing someone and letting them form their own ideas about you? That's terribly passive aggressive, don't you think so?"

_Adrien Sinclair Powers, you ass_, I added silently. A gorgeous face and a loathsome personality always seem to come together and make one of the worst combinations the world has to offer. It was sort of like _The Beauty & the Beast_, only the _Beauty_ the beast transformed into at the end was sitting right next to me with the _Beast's_ personality.

He pivoted all the way towards me and for a second time I thought I'd said his name, and the insult, out loud, but then wouldn't everyone be spinning to face me? I thought it with a considerable amount of force, so surely if spoken aloud it would have been audible all across the classroom.

But maybe I hadn't. Adrien was staring at me like I'd grown an extra arm or something. I mean, yeah, the words I actually spoke were pretty biting, but Adrien was drawing attention now, the way he stared and still hadn't stopped. It couldn't have been that big of a deal.

Then again, what new girl steps into a new school and decides to bite off the head of the most gorgeous, albeit moody, male specimen in sight? I was dead sure no other girls had the gall—or stupidity—to call him out.

Now through his whole staring act, I stared at the black paint covered lab table instead of into his glowing—in the dim lighting they were like beacons, willing me to sit up and stare into his eyes and get hypnotized by the light behind them—eyes.

But even though I could still feel his eyes burning holes straight through my face, I still had to look up and check, because maybe, just maybe, I was hallucinating. Why would someone so callous and self-elevating look at lowly little me?

I revoke that last thought, because he was. And the look he gave me was the way I'd stare at a particularly tough stain on my favorite t-shirt. Seriously annoyed is what Adrien was and in a degree I could totally understand too, because I felt the same way about him—only not so much in a you-are-the-dirt-beneath-my-shoes kind of way.

Since I'm so spineless, without wanting to seem spineless, I stared at the spot right between his eyebrows, hoping he'd look away first.

"Ryan, Adrien," someone snapped, but not Adrien, obviously, and I jumped like I was tasered with the highest legal voltage. "As much as I'm sure you two would like to get acquainted, please do so when I'm not lecturing."

Adrien spun around and drawled, "The law you're referring to is Newton's third one."

I swear my jaw must have been hanging open leaving my tonsils and that weird dangling thing in clear view. Brains and beauty. That whole dual concentration thing was something I'd never been able to grasp. How Adrien had been able to argue with me and listen to the lesson at the same time was amazing. And scary weird.

I glanced down at the blank sheet in front of him and my eyebrows knitted together further. What the—

"I didn't ask _you_ that question, Mr. Powers," Mr. Krueger sputtered, "I was only requesting that you pay more attention in class, no matter how many of my questions you can answer. I was going to call on Ryanne to answer, but forget that now."

And after that there was no way to jump back into conversation with Adrien, not that I'd gladly do so. Especially because he spun out of the classroom before anyone else. I swear there was a breeze that whipped around the classroom in his wake.

Erin looked positively stricken when she approached me. Right after I slipped on my backpack, she locked her arm with mine. "What was that about it?"

Play dumb, I decided. "What do you mean?"

"Adrien was talking your head off—for him, I mean. I've never seen him carry on a conversation with anyone besides his family. God, Ryan, you must have really pissed him off," she muttered the last part. A little piqued that the only reason Adrien Powers would be talking to me was anger, I pulled my arm from hers.

"I didn't do anything. He was…rude," I grumbled, wondering why I could only come up with rude when there seemed like so many other things to mention.

"I should have told you about Adrien Powers," she said finally. We were standing just inside the doorway to the classroom, while I waited for Mr. Krueger to sign the sheet. But rather than give the sheet to me, he handed it to David, who was just passing by his desk.

Erin pulled me into the hallway, with David trailing us. "He looks like a dream, right? I mean you wouldn't expect him to act so…horrid. Grace and Darien aren't. They don't talk much and if they do it's only to each other, but Adrien's just cold. I guess we're just not important or attractive enough to matter to him. I know this girl," she paused and waved brightly at a group of three dark haired girls across the hall.

"_I _could never do it. He's too gorgeous for me to function around, I'm sure, but this girl—I won't tell you her name, since she's still pretty embarrassed about it—really liked him. Maybe she thought—I don't know _what_ she was thinking—they'd start dating…," another dramatic pause, while I was just wishing she'd get on with it, "Well, he shut her down. That's all you can describe it as. And he wasn't very gracious about it either."

Somehow, I didn't want to talk anymore about how big of a jerk Adrien was. I wanted to know why. And maybe if she could give me some more information besides how hot he was and how some girl, who may or may not have been Erin herself, was in love with him. "So, have they lived here long? Have you?"

"I've lived here all my life and so has probably ninety percent of everyone else you'll meet her. The Powers moved her two years ago, in the middle of freshman year, although they definitely did not look like freshmen, let me tell you," she stopped as we turned down another hallway to the left.

"And they're all adopted," I questioned, a little annoyed with myself for wanting this information. I should want nothing to do with Adrien after the way he acted. I _should_, but I don't.

"Yep, it's just them and Mr. Powers, who's their dad, but my mom says he's hardly in town enough to be called their father anyway," I nodded along with her, but I was really just thinking how right Adrien was in thinking Erin already gave me an earful about him.

I didn't bother thinking about how odd their situation was, I'm in weird one myself. But really? Fraternal triplets, all adopted by one man, who's hardly home. Maybe it was family problems, but really? I've got no amount of sympathy for that kind of thing. At least he has a brother, a sister, and sometimes-father. That's more than I'd ever ask for. Much more.

We were just coming around another bend when I spotted them. All three huddled in a corner, with Adrien whispering something harshly into their ears. The girl, Grace, I had to keep remembering her name, because all I could think about was Adrien, and how ridiculous it was for me to think he was telling them about me. But I knew he was.

I knew when they all looked up at the same time, like drawn, not by sight, but by some other sense. Darien and Grace looked away first, while Adrien was none too embarrassed to be caught staring at me. Weird thing was, they didn't look back at him, but in totally opposite directions, while Adrien went on hissing something under his breath. Lips hardly moving and the rest of his body was totally immobile, which was, again, extremely weird.

He was lounging against the locker behind him, one foot propped up against the wall and the other crossed in front of him, but he hadn't shifted his weight once. Long, lean, and in a whole new meaning, very statuesque.

"What were you two arguing about anyway," Erin hissed, with a sharp tug of my arm. If I wasn't distracted, I probably would have torn my arm away and snapped something not so nice at her.

But I wasn't thinking about Erin, because Adrien was opening his mouth and looking right at me and I knew without at doubt that he was going to call me over there and dole out some horrible embarrassment.

"Ryanne?" And oh, that silky voice spilled over me in waves. I wonder if his hair would feel the same way if I combed my fingers through it.

_What_, what, what on earth could he possibly want; unless he was planning on chewing me out again. Too bad I'm not the type to back down, because extricating my arm from Erin's death grip took some work and I might as well have been walking the plank once I finally got away from her.

"Yes, Adrien," I said, still about two feet away from them, but definitely close enough. I was proud of how steady my voice was and how pointed my glare was.

Grace and Darien might as well have been on Mars when Adrien met my glare. I swear an electrical shock went through me and when I say I wanted to look away, believe me, because I did. But I could not. Had Erin ran over and ripped my arm from its socket, I still would not have been able to look away.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier, I was very ill-mannered and I hope—," he stopped so abruptly, I jumped a bit, because that's what I was wishing he'd do. Just shut up. Because I just knew I was the butt of some joke I hadn't figured out yet. He squinted at me, with something like triumph in his eyes. That's when I looked away, flushed. Things were just getting a little bit too odd. And I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

But I did not buy this apology for even a fifth of a second.

"Is this apology all you wanted," I glanced over my shoulder at my new friend, who looked like she might have about five hundred ants in her pants, "Because, if so, I should really get back to Erin."

I think he was going to concede, but I'll never know that now, because a breathtaking, molten gold-eyed, Darien stepped into my line of sight. "I never got a chance to introduce myself this morning, Ryan. I'm Darien, Adrien's brother, and this is Grace."

He gestured, but Adrien caught my eye again. He was watching Darien closely and then he looked up abruptly and I swear it looked like he was trying to smell something. So super weird.

"Um…it's nice to meet you," I turned and finally met Grace's glance. And her wide-doe eyes blinked back at me, bored. "I should…go."

--

My gym class was for the time being, in a classroom setting since it was Outdoor Education and it was pouring outside. The teacher, a short perky woman with long gray hair twisted into a braid down her back, passed out packets on camping and handed out textbooks. That's really all I can say about the class, because I'm trying to block the rest out now while I speed home with much urgency.

First off Darien, Grace, and Adrien are in my class and they were all seated in the back row, perfectly positioned to witness all my pathetic blunders. There was the face plant at the front of the classroom, which is especially annoying because I am in no way clumsy and now everyone's going to think one of my legs is shorter than the other. And then the teacher, Mrs. Brian, insisted I introduce myself to the class.

I blanked. "I'm from Chicago…I like to run," is not a proper introduction unless you want someone to know your brain doesn't function correctly under mild duress.

I know some people felt bad, felt like maybe it was okay, since I was new and just had a long day, and I know half of them realize I have no parents—not that I want that kind of sympathy—but I caught a few people, turning to glance at a friend across the room, and the silent shaking shoulders of laughter followed.

If humanly possible, I would have melted into a puddle on the floor and waited until the janitor could be bothered to mop me up with an old mildewed rag once school was out. That's how much I wanted to disappear.

I've never had a more embarrassing first day. Well, no, that's not true at all. There was this one time at a private school back in Chicago…no, today was the weirdest, most off-putting first day I've ever experienced.

And more disconcerting than anything was the fact that it all centered around one boy. One boy that I may or may not be out of his mind, one boy who made a bigger fool of me than I did myself.

**A/N: Even though it's extremely shorter than the chapter that was originally before it, but I decided the chapters should be a bit shorter to make the story flow more (THANKS SEMINA!), and I think this is a good place to end this chapter. Oh! I should mention that there will be no mind reading, at least not from Adrien or Ryan or Darien or Grace, no matter what some behavior might suggest...**


	5. Chapter 4: Flash Floods & Poetry

**Chapter Four: Flash Floods, Windbreakers, & Poets.**

Alyssa called up the stairs this morning to announce that the weather forecast promised plenty of sun and that it wouldn't rain until late at night. I _think_ she must have mentioned something about bringing a jacket just in case, but I wasn't really listening. I was too distracted at the prospect of actual sunshine to listen.

I hopped out of bed with something akin to optimism. As much as she droned on about the rain and clouds here, I couldn't take today for granted.

I still wore jeans, but I slipped on a ribbed pale green tank top and left my hair loose. It looked a little wilder than yesterday, wavier and a little tangled, but it was better than the regular flatness I usually have to deal with. And I had to admit, as I paused in front the mirror in the bathroom, after combing out a particularly stubborn knot, I did look good. Or well good enough.

I put on a little eyeliner, so my dark blue eyes stood out, and the last bits of my tan from a vicious Chicago summer were still holding on, so I had a decent glow. But still, I wouldn't look especially good. Not especially good when the person I wanted to look good _to_ was—

Well, I would look like a normal girl to him. Not pretty, nor ugly, but just regular. Just run of the mill, really, and easily ignored—but why did it matter anyway? Adrien was a jerk, and no amount of attractiveness could make up for his particular brand of rude.

Yeah, right, who am I kidding?

I paused where I left my jacket and the compass from a few days ago and looped it around my neck, loving the secure weight between my shoulder blades. I forwent the jacket, which was, of course, a bad idea. Because I guess you really can't get your hopes up too high when it comes to sunshine in Bishop. I guess it was a lesson I'd have to learn on my own.

The sun still hadn't peaked through the clouds when I got to school, but it was early yet and of course it would warm up. If not, I'd freeze my butt off by the time second period rolled around, but I wasn't thinking about that—not yet at least.

I parked pretty far back in the parking lot today and pulled my iPod from deep inside my bag and popped the headphones in my ears. I didn't hear the SUV drive up. Honestly, you'd think whoever was driving the boxy black Mercedes truck would slow down when they passed me. Because that thing could quite easily kill somebody and by somebody, I mean me.

I spied a ghostly pale hand hanging out the window while I pressed myself against a dented Honda while it passed. I don't know how I knew who would pile out the truck—even before I saw that hand, because really, who else could be that pale? There were no reasons for me to think the Powers were wealthy—no especially damning context clues—but they obviously were. Some people you just get that vibe—and from drop dead gorgeous triplets whose father travels a lot? Yeah, I got the wealthy vibe.

Adrien appears on the driver's side, like I knew he would. And there went another "aha" moment. Of course he'd try and run me over after yesterday. How dare I, the lowly new girl, demand an introduction? Although he did apologize, I should remember that. Ha.

_Whatever he pulled yesterday was not an apology_, the other side of my mind countered. This side favored logic and wished Adrien would turn around so I could have a better view of his face. This side was still arguing—long after I went to sleep, since his shadowy figure drifted in and out of my dreams last night—that he couldn't have been as awe-inspiring as I remember.

But then he turned and looked right at me. And he was. I froze when he shifted my way. The wind blew his wavy black locks off of his face, carved from white marble into the most breathtaking image I'd ever seen; although his beauty was more akin to the fallen angel Lucifer—there was something dark I couldn't put my finger on—than any of the other angels left in heaven.

Every angle and plane of his face was sharp, as if twisted the wrong way, he'd be both beautiful _and_ terrifying. And his mouth, kissable from even this far, twisted into a frown in my direction. I blinked. No, he was still a vision, in shades of light and dark, but he wasn't frowning anymore, at least not exactly.

I couldn't tell if it was a glare or just plain curiosity because of the distance, but I'm betting on the former. Only a few seconds passed and then he turned abruptly and walked away. My heart was still lodged in my throat and I really couldn't see it moving anytime soon. His brother and sister joined him a moment later and a stab of some unidentifiable emotion coursed through me.

The fog still lingering made the brief moment almost magical; the air of mystery worked well for the situation. Right up until I realized that what I was daydreaming about was probably the most forgettable moment in Adrien's short life.

Pitiful wasn't even the half of it.

Erin and her three friends from yesterday intercepted me just before I stepped in the building. It was a small victory, remembering all their names. "Hey Erin…Rachel, Brittany, and Erica."

Each of them had on a variation of the same outfit—leggings with a tiny little sundress on top and a hoodie in their arms—with the same elaborately mussed ponytail. Only Rachel left her red-brown hair down, but she did have a scrunchy on her wrist. No shockers here.

All the requisite greetings came and went before Erin finally asked what I knew she'd been wondering about all night. "So we never did get a chance to talk about the weirdness between you and Adrien yesterday. What was all that about?"

"I honestly have no idea," I answered truthfully. It was the first thing that came to my mind, "First he was a total…jerk in Physics who couldn't even be bothered to introduce himself and then afterwards—you were there, Erin—he gave this weird apology and introduced me to his brother and sister."

When I said it all aloud like this, my interactions with Adrien sounded even odder than when I reviewed every word spoken while lying awake in bed in the middle of the night.

Only Rachel was quiet. The other three couldn't wait to give their takes on his odd behavior, since they're all experts, even though I've been told that nobody really knows what Adrien's deal is. None of their explanations were even worth thinking about, so I didn't bother. Neither did they bother bring me back into the conversation.

I drifted back towards David, who I hadn't even noticed and was bringing up the rear. He smiled down at me, "So, Ryan, how was your first day?"

He really did have a nice smile—all straight white teeth, aside from the chipped one in the front, and his pale blue eyes seemed brighter just with the change in his facial expression. "It wasn't…horrible. I've had much worse."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've been the new girl plenty of times," I lifted one corner of my mouth in a half smile and motioned to the bathroom across the hall, "I'll see you guys in class."

I hid out in the bathroom until I knew they'd be well ahead of me and I could walk alone. I _was_ wrong about letting Erin latch on. I'd much rather being alone. She wasn't the friend I needed, if I needed anyone at all. Three years through high school so far, I'd been alone, how much better would it be to have friends who were only there for convenience?

I didn't realize I was walking behind Darien until I got to our English class and he was holding open the door—at least I must have been behind him. I could have sworn I was all alone until I stopped in front of the classroom. He bent forward, a slight bow and a ghost of a smile on his pale, beautiful face, "Ryanne?"

"Ryan," I corrected automatically, as if there was such a big difference in a slight change pronunciation. Only there really was for me, "Hi, Darien."

Darien nodded and then inclined his head toward the doorway. It took me about fifteen seconds for my rattled brain to catch up and command my body to walk through the door.

-

"Don't you have a jacket," David asked me about three hours later, during two of which the weather had taken a turn for the worst. We'd just left fourth period and were heading to the next building for lunch, the only problem being it was pouring buckets and little miss idiot new girl (you know, me) forgot to bring a jacket.

"No, David, I forgot. I was under the impression that it was supposed to be sunny out today," I muttered, words like ice. He glanced between Erin and I, wondering how angry she'd be if he offered his jacket.

I'd save him the conundrum.

I pushed open the door, hiked my backpack up on my shoulders, wrapped my arms around my torso and trudged forward, which, from the get-go was my only real option. Everyone else was using their own jackets and I was parading around in a tank top—hence the new nickname. I looked positively idiotic.

I was soaked to the bone within thirty seconds and I knew as soon as I stepped back indoors I'd have the shakes like no other. I've been caught in rain like this many times in back home, but I think the difference here was the lack of umbrellas. In Chicago, people wouldn't throw on a windbreaker—it'd ruin their outfit—they'd have giant collapsible umbrellas in their bags. There wasn't _always_ a need for an umbrella; someone would be decent enough to share.

Unfortunately for me, you can't share a raincoat.

Once we all got to the cafeteria, I was soaked through and shaking like a leaf in the wind, but before Erin and David could offer anymore of their much coveted help, I stomped over to the back of the lunch line and folded my arms around my chest.

Adrien stepped up out of nowhere and I'm hoping he didn't notice me jump and try to hide it with a cough. I was hoping he wouldn't look at me at all. I was praying that just this once I could lean back into the wall behind me and end up somewhere in Southern California, while Adrien was none the wiser.

"Ryan," Adrien called quietly. His silky voice made my ears perk up and my body shift toward him, despite my explicit instructions not to. I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. If the rest of my body couldn't handle simple directions in Adrien's pressence, how was I to trust my mouth around him?

"You're soaking wet," Adrien commented and his expression was so tight-lipped, I think he was trying not to laugh at my appearance. I looked down at the water pooling around my squeaky flip-flops.

"Of that…," I paused, cursing the flames dancing across my face right now. Of course, staring at my toes wouldn't completely obscure the view of my cherry red face, but it couldn't make matters worse. "Of that, I am aware."

My arms were already folded tightly across my chest, but Adrien was still staring at me and I might as well have been naked. I wish I could have shriveled up and died in that moment. Adrien's eyebrows knitted together in distress—a new emotion that I couldn't quite figure out.

It was a good thing we were at the very tail end of the lunch line, because I don't think I could have moved to save my life. It was like a stepped in a puddle of very inconveniently placed rubber cement. "You didn't bring a jacket?"

"Obviously not," I managed to spit out, finally finding energy to spin away from him, "Or else I would have worn it during that flash flood earlier and we _wouldn't_ be having this conversation."

"That was not a _flash flood_," he scoffs, one eyebrow rising high on his forehead. Unlike yesterday, Adrien's dark hair is pushed up away from his face, in a very James Dean-like manner. The full view of his face is breathtaking, even while his mouth's twisted into a superior smirk, "And you can't really blame me for asking. Who wears a flimsy thing like that in the middle of fall?"

My nails dug into the wiry flesh on my arms, "My aunt told me today there would be plenty of sun today. I didn't know the forecast changes at the drop of a hat here; I thought I left that back home in Chicago."

"Still, I'm sure she told you to bring a jacket—just in case," Adrien shot back, his voice taking on a cool cadence that I would never master no matter the circumstance.

"She might have," I mumbled, "Besides, what does that matter now? The damage is already done."

"You'll catch your death walking around here like that," Adrien protested.

I pivoted on my heel again. He was standing closer than I thought and I took a shaky step back, steadying myself against the off-white wall to my right. "Though I'm sure it's not going to keep you up at night worrying, I'm sure that even if I did catch a cold, it wouldn't kill me, what with modern medicine and all that jazz."

I smile tugged at the corner of his lips and I really wish he would have grinned like he wanted to, instead of another frown. Except with his lips, all his frowns turned into this sort of pout—one that should be printed across the pages of European fashion magazines, not displayed in full force for me in the middle of this dank cafeteria—that I didn't mind staring at.

I felt a brief flash of annoyance at the way I could be staring at his mouth wishing he'd press his lips to mine, while in the same thought wanting to knock his nose off center.

"Yeah, modern medicine…but still I'd feel better knowing you're safe from hypothermia and…killer colds," he said and started unzipping his black windbreaker. I didn't get the connection between his actions and his words until he held it out to me.

I was busy staring at the tiny bit of chest revealed by his red v-neck t-shirt. The white plains of his chest and little bit of collarbone exposed sent a slight shiver up my spine. I could only wonder how I'd react to seeing Adrien shirtless—would it be like the first time I saw his face? No, it couldn't be. Plus, he's so long and willowy; he couldn't be hiding too many muscles under that thin shirt.

He couldn't, but I somehow knew he did, no matter what my common sense was arguing.

I must have stared at him for a couple minutes before I could finally form words. "No, no, thank you Adrien, but I'm fine. I'll dry off in no time at all. Really I will."

"Oh, come on and just take it already. It's not like it's my letterman jacket and I'm asking you to go steady," Adrien drawled with so much sarcasm that I could practically taste it in the air and chuckled a bi, shocked by his own comedic ability.

"Oh, Adrien, you're so funny; you better not tell another joke—I might just _die_ from laughing so hard," I countered with disdain coating every single syllable. If I was talking to anyone other than him, I would have called my triumphant smile radiant. But standing next to the demi-god that is Adrien Sinclair Powers, everything I do just seems kind of…dim.

He blinked down at me before tossing his head back and laughing. I'm going to pretend I didn't lean toward the musical sound, though it made the hairs on the back of my neck rise up—in a good way.

"Cute, but still, take the jacket so I can go sit down now."

Note: We're going to pretend my heart didn't sputter around in my chest when he said cute in reference to me. I mean, it wasn't sexy, or hot, but hey, a girl's gotta take whatever she can get in life.

I'd already decided on taking the jacket, but snatching it out of his light grasp took more than I can even begin to explain. "So that's all you came up here for? To give me your jacket?"

He rocked back on his heels before answering, with an all too alluring half-smile, "I could see you shivering from clear across the cafeteria…and, you know, a simple thank you would suffice."

"Thanks, Adrien. Your chivalry's almost too much to take," I grumbled, but Adrien was already strolling away. My stomach tightened at the glimpse of a smile still playing across his lips.

I slipped the jacket on after a long drawn out argument about it in my head. But no doubt someone had seen or heard our little exchange and I'd get the third degree either way. I might as well stay warm while interrogated.

I had to roll up the sleeves a good deal and the jacket came to pretty low on my thighs, but I didn't mind the extra material. I was fluffing my hair out when I smelled it. Not cologne—or at least it didn't smell like any cologne. There aren't any other scents it reminded me of. There was no recognizing any facets of this crisp yet sweet and delicious scent.

Thinking it was something in the air, I lifted my head and inhaled deeply. I jerked back when the smell of greasy cafeteria food assaulted my senses.

It had to be the jacket then. After glancing around to check if anyone was staring at me, I sniffed the collar of his jacket. After three deep breaths, my mouth watering the whole time, I forced myself to stop, mostly because I looked like I was trying out for a Cottonelle commercial. I wonder how many people will think I'm a grade-A freak after this little exchange.

But the real question was how I planned on sitting through a whole period with Adrien, knowing he smelt like this and not assault him in hopes for a quick sniff.

It looks like more people caught on to my little exchange with Adrien than I thought, because if the staring yesterday was annoying, right now it's enough to drive me into a murderous rage. Not just because I almost dropped my tray while trying to push the sleeves back up, but also because of the hush that fell over Erin and David's table when I sat down.

Weird thing was, since I thought they'd pounce as soon as I sat down, no one asked about it. They all looked away from me and only David tried to tie me into conversation a few times. Erin went with the same silent routine, but she did pinch my leg under the table about five times, coupled with this look. This look like we were sharing some sort of secret, though I had absolutely nothing I wanted to share with the girl.

After the fifth assault, I shut her down with a look of my own and got up to dump my tray.

"Hello," someone called from behind me after I dumped my tray.

"Yes," I answered, not meaning to let so much ice slip into my voice. I spun around and stared straight up.

The guy had a deep tan, wide almond shaped bright green eyes, and a long mane of shaggy brown-black hair dusting his shoulders. And he was tall, really tall. He was probably taller than Adrien even and broader. Broad, with thick muscles stretching across his shoulders and down his chest and arms without looking like he spent his spare time on a football field or shoveling steroids into his system. Did I mention he was very attractive? Somewhere on the spectrum between David and Adrien, but different.

He looked wild. Like he just stepped out of the forest behind the school, tossed off his loin cloth in favor of an adorably tattered pair of jeans and a thin black t-shirt, and kept his backpack stashed behind one of the trash cans.

"I'm sorry…I just—Ryanne Alexander?" He held up his hands and stepped back, giving me the impression that the look on my face was something akin to what a rabid raccoon would call a smile.

"Um, yeah, that's me," I tried to soften my expression, but I might've deepened my frown just by trying. I wasn't really in the mood to make nice with strangers, no matter how cute they are. "But I—I prefer Ryan."

"Nice to meet you, Ryan," the guy smirked, quirked an eyebrow, and stuck out his hand. Still slow on the uptake, it took me a couple of awkward seconds to shake his hand, "I'm Eli, or well, it's actually Elijah Whitman, but I much prefer Eli."

"Whitman? Like the poet," I arched an eyebrow to match his and hesitantly grinned.

"_Just_ like the poet," he smile widened, revealing two rows of flawless white teeth that either came from amazing orthodontia or impeccable genes, "So, Ryan, where are you headed?"

"Well, lunch isn't over yet, so…," I started, not exactly sure on how I planned to finish. I wasn't really planning on going back to that table after what just happened. Actually, I kind of just wanted to get Adrien's jacket off and get the hell out of here.

"You're gonna go back there," Eli pointed past me, to my empty seat. Erin was staring back at us with enough venom to make me flinch. "Oh, don't worry about Erin. It's nothing personal, she just hates me."

I twisted back around to face Eli, "Why?"

"We hated each other before our parents got married, way before we had to live together and actually be related, but between you and me," he paused, glancing over my shoulder at Erin and her band of merry followers and bent down so I could hear him whisper, "I think the hate was seriously solidified that one morning I caught her waxing her chin."

My jaw fell open and I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep any obnoxious laughter from spilling out. "You're kidding," I said, after finally getting the image of Erin slathering hot wax all over her chin out of my head.

He just shrugged, a casual lift of the shoulders coupled with a wickedly cute half-smile. "So, you're probably going to be hated by association for at least a day for speaking with me in public and you really shouldn't go back there."

Usually I'd mumble some excuse to get out of there, but Eli had just given me a perfect excuse not to talk to Erin for the rest of the day, and I really shouldn't be rude after that. "Where are you going then?"

"Back to the _quiet_ corner of the cafeteria," Eli said, and in the oddest turn of events, since I had just met this boy, he grabbed my hand, "Come on, Ryan; we should retreat before they send out the attack dogs."

I glanced down at my tiny hand dwarfed in his massive one and felt something foreign tug at my chest, but I shook my head to clear my thoughts and started walking with Eli tugging me forward.

**A/N: This chapter ended differently than I meant it too. You see, I meant to hold off on introducing Eli, but I couldn't really have Ryan's only company for the next few chapters be Erin and David. I mean she's got to have someone to talk to…**

**I hope you like it. Send me your thoughts…**

**Oh! The next update should come much sooner, since I already have half of it written and let's just say it's a doozy.**

**Thanks to: ****Harlow Nicole****, ****Lupita M.****, ****europ92****, ****TheAngelOfHope****, ****HansWorth****, and ****Shady Lane**** for reviewing! It means a lot to me.**


	6. Chapter 5: The Baker vs The Murderer

**Chapter Five: The Baker vs. The Murderer**

You know how you meet someone, and from that second on, once you're past introductions and the slight awkwardness that always comes with meeting someone new, you know you two will hit it off.

I felt that with Eli, just as soon as he revealed one of Erin's dirtiest secrets to me and pulled me across the cafeteria to a rickety table in the corner opposite my old seat. I had a minor stumble when I realize we were much closer to the Powers' table and I could see Adrien's profile perfectly, but then Eli started talking and actually listening to what I was saying, unlike the rest of the heard, just about distracting me from Adrien's presence. _Just_ about.

"So, um, Chicago, what's that like?" Eli dropped my hand and sank into the rickety red-brown seat behind him.

I settled into the chair right next to him, since it'd seem rude if I scooted all the way to the other side of the table, and stared at his lunch tray. Two slices of pizza, three massive homemade-looking brownies, and what looked like half a watermelon cut up in a Tupperware case.

Seeing me staring, Eli pushes the plate of brownies toward me and pulls open the Tupperware. "I always bring extra…even though I'm always alone."

I can feel my mouth forming the question just before a tinge of sadness slips into his eyes and I smash my lips together and swallow the question just in time. I reached for a brownie instead and brake off a chunk to give me time to think of what to say.

"Well, it's nothing like here, of course," I paused, swallowing the last bit of lingering confusion and a bit of moist chocolate, "I've lived all over the city and I still don't think I have a clear picture of it. But my favorite part is Chinatown."

"Wait, there's a whole town devoted to Chinese things?" Eli leaned forward and his eyebrows knitted together while I tossed my head back and laughed. I imagine that when living here, talk of towns inside of towns was a bit confusing.

"It's kind of…hard to explain in words, but I'll bring pictures tomorrow," I smiled, probably too wide, because Eli probably doesn't like company, since he's eating alone, and he's probably just being polite, "I promise."

"You could ask, you know; I could tell you wanted to," he said before lifting a chunk of watermelon about his mouth and pinching it so the juice would run into his open mouth.

He dropped the fruit in his mouth after a few moments and glanced at me. I had to frown to make sure he knew I thought the way he ate was gross, especially when he licked his fingertips. I had to stop staring at his mouth, wondering how the lingering watermelon juice would taste, mingled with the taste of his lips.

"I didn't think you'd want to talk about it."

"It's okay," he shakes his hair off his shoulders and I can't help but think about the way dogs shake themselves off when they're wet, but not in a bad way at all, "Two years ago my mom passed and I had a rough time…and lost whatever friends I used to have."

I hold my fist over my mouth to muffle the loud, "Oh, no."

You'd think I couldn't feel pity for Eli, since I've lost both of my parents and to live without any family for such a long time. But it's different when you're five. I can't imagine living fifteen years with my mother as a constant and then she's just gone.

Eli shifted away from me, so I couldn't quite see his facial expression, but from the set of his mouth I knew it must've been somewhat bitter. "I had almost the same reaction when I heard about your parents, but you know what? Pity's different when it's coming from someone who can actually understand."

I pressed my lips together and sucked in a breath through my nose. Yeah, pity was different then, but it was still pity and pity is something I just can't deal with. "So I suppose it's common knowledge then? Why I'm here, I mean."

"Well, not exactly. They know you don't live with your parents; I only know because your aunt's good friends with Erin's—my stepmom, I mean—and she…," Eli did that thing where he shook his hair around again and glanced back across the hallway, to where Erin and her friends sat.

"So, your stepmom asked you to become friends with me, since I have no family and no friends," I tried to keep my voice level, but my fists were clenched underneath the table and I wanted to spit my brownie right back out, "but you know what? I like it just fine that way, Eli so don't worry about it."

"She didn't ask me. She asked Erin. Molly knows I'm not good at making friends, obviously. She wouldn't want you anywhere near me," insert cheeky smile here that I didn't even know he had, but I suppose there are a lot of things I'll come to know about Eli, "seeing as I'll probably sully your opinion of her even before she asks you over for dinner, which I promise you will happen before the weekend. She'll probably even ask me to bake desert and pretend it's an old family recipe."

"You bake? You baked these?"

"They don't taste too much like dirt do they? It's just that I've been tweaking around with the recipe and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have added that last little bit of nutmeg, since _no one_ uses nutmeg in brownies anyway, but I happen to like nutmeg so I—," he stopped, eyes narrowed since I just couldn't help it anymore and I'm surprised my laughter didn't draw the whole school.

It was just too funny. How someone could be such a perfectionist about something as mundane, though heavenly, as brownies is beyond me. "No," I breathed, between my gasps, "they're amazing and I'm sorry. I've never met anyone so dedicated to baked goods."

"I took Home Economics last year and I'm a bit of a perfectionist. There's nothing like working at something and getting it _just_ right, you know?"

We both stood up—Eli packing his lunch away and me mourning the loss of his brownies since I could totally pack another one away—and started toward the cafeteria exit. I almost forgot I was wearing Adrien's jacket until I caught a few girls staring unabashedly.

"Honestly, Eli, I really wouldn't know," I hitched my messenger back up on my shoulder and attempted to not let what I was about to say depress me or him, "I don't think I've gotten _anything_ just right. Whether it be brownies or making friends or—"

"Hey, I'll bring my double chocolate chip cookies tomorrow, my mom's old recipe," Eli dropped his arm on my shoulders, confirming that he was just one of those touchy-feely guys who didn't realize what the most casual, lightest touch could do. "You'll at least get a chance to taste perfection."

…….

Life's meant to be ironic, I guess, because once I gave Adrien his jacket back, Mr. Krueger announced that we'd be doing a lab today, and not just with our lab partners, but with another pair of his picking too.

And not that I would have gladly asked to be partners with any of them—I would have left my own partner behind if I could too, since watching him from across the room would be easier and I wouldn't have to interpret everything he did—but I sure as hell wouldn't have picked Erin and I'm pretty sure Adrien and I can agree on that.

Let's just say I've never seen anyone turn friendship on and off like Erin can. And she definitely had a ton of input on Dave's behavior too, because he looked a bit tortured every time he stared blankly at me while I read out the instructions to the lab to him and Adrien.

Erin found it appropriate to sit in my seat, reading Cosmo magazine the whole time—and I've got to say that Dave must be a lucky man, the way Erin studied all those articles on sex so intensely—and every time she slid on another layer of lip gunk, she stared right at Adrien.

The satisfaction in knowing he wasn't paying any attention to her was almost as sweet as her brother's brownies.

We'd just finished recording the data from the lab on projectile motion when Erin finally spoke to me. "So I see you met my brother; I bet you two hit it off right away. Lot's of girls like Elijah, I guess. He usually pays them no attention."

I stared blankly at the girl. I hadn't expected her to go straight for the jugular. I shrugged, though I desperately wanted to reveal her chin waxing, but I knew it would seem petty, so I kept my mouth shut about it. "He seemed sweet and the brownies were great."

She made a nasty little noise, something like "uh-huh" and stalked back to her own desk.

I sat down next to Adrien and started doodling angrily—although can you really doodle in an angry manner?—in the margins of my notes. I felt that familiar creepy crawly feeling of someone watching me and shifted toward Adrien.

Like I really needed to deal with his erratic behavior after Erin's grade A bullshit. "Is there anything I can do for you Adrien?"

My tone was biting and rude, but I didn't really care that it wasn't the tone I should use for the boy I was nursing a major infatuation for. I know I'd never use it with Eli.

"You're very different, Ryan Alexander," Adrien muttered before shifting in his seat. Now somehow he was turned away from me and still turned toward me at the same time.

"I can't say I feel the same way about you, Adrien Powers," I said carefully, with no inflection in my voice at all, "The story of a boy with a beautiful face and horrid personality has been told many times before. And although in those stories, most girls would try to change your evil ways, I just couldn't care less."

"That might be true, except you're missing one key fact," he turns his face toward mine completely now and I automatically move to match this. He's so close and beautiful and staring right at me when he says, "And even though you think you've got me all figured out, this missing link would stop you right in your tracks. And _really _make you think again about the way you talk to me."

Something lethal seeped into his voice in the end and made my blood run cold and the tiny little hairs along my arms and neck stand straight up, but that didn't matter too much.

He might as well have stuck a fresh mystery under Nancy Drew's nose. Once I knew there was a secret, one missing piece of the puzzle that would make the whole picture come together, I just had to find it. There would be absolutely no resting until I did.

…….

And I didn't.

Even after Alyssa cooked this amazing pasta dish so good Olive Garden should be begging to add it to their menu, I was restless the rest of the night. She hadn't gotten the Wi-Fi up yet, so there was no internet surfing I could to do crack the case, though what could I really search? Gorgeous, pale skin, a lack of sleep—if the purply bruises under his eyes were any indication—cheek bones you could cut steel on and eyes that were varying shades of gold. Oh, and really smart. What could I come up with from that?

Nothing is what. You can't throw a couple qualities into a search engine and come up with something. I just knew there was something _other_ about him. Something inhuman and not in a bad way, at least not in my expert opinion.

It annoyed me that even though my mind did take a lot of time to linger of Eli's smile and his arm around my shoulders and his baking and perfectionist bit, I still thought about Adrien more. So much more that I'm embarrassed to even think about it. Eli treated me much better than Adrien did, so why was I slowly but surely becoming mildly obsessed.

I finally distracted myself with some preliminary work on an English essay that wouldn't be due for another week. In other words, I numbed my brain into forgetting about Adrien and his jacket, because, somehow, his not wanting me to freeze to death meant something.

Of course, there's no real way to distract yourself in your sleep, especially when the dreams come. And believe me, I've been having horrible nightmares for over ten years now without reprieve, I know.

I was back in that clearing from my run and it was dark and pouring. That kind of, you can't see two inches in front of your face, darkness that made seeing anything impossible and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why or where I was running.

That was just up until I heard the gunshots. Thundering, echoing gunshots, that sent my dream twirling and shifting into another scene. The ground underneath me was damp and coated with a thick layer of grime and dirt the likes of which you can only find in a city alleyway. There were the typical inner city noises—honking cars, ambulances racing the streets, and certain industrial rumble you don't know until you live in an urban area, and of course the sound of a child whimpering—and smells always in alleys that I won't even mention.

Everything in me screamed out where I was and kept on screaming, urging me to run.

I hadn't dreamt about my parents' murder for months—the ones I get now are more abstract than that, but no less terrifying—but I still recognized the setting immediately. Where we were walking to the car from and why we were taking a short cut through this all, I have no idea; I just knew that within the next ten seconds a man would come strolling down the alley in front of us.

His face is always blurry and I never hear any words but I remember them. I remember my father arguing for the man to let his wife and daughter go and then he could take whatever he wanted from him. That he'd even tell him his social security number so he could access his credit cards. Anything for us to get away, I guess.

But the dream was different this time. And it took me a while to get it. I wasn't where I should have been, or who I should have been. I wasn't wrapped up in my mother's arms and I wasn't five years old. My parents were nowhere to be found. I almost ran, but knew the bullets would catch me in the back no matter how fast I was.

These dreams always end in death.

I backed up into—into a tree?

I blinked and was back on the forest floor, cowering. There was something here with me this time. Something terrifying, predatory, and massive. I could hear it breathing; smell the wild musk rolling off it. The clouds shifted and moonlight spilled through the trees.

A bear.

I screamed when the bear rose up on its hind legs and roared. Just like when the gunman pointed his pistol at my father's head. I screamed in my dream and shrieked probably just as loud back in the real world.

I woke with a start. There was a loud creak over by my window. I turned toward it and—

My whole body seized up and I was holding all my breath inside, getting ready to cry out once again. I knew I should have been looking for a weapon or something, but I couldn't move. All I could think was that I shouldn't have mouthed off to him in class today and that I really was about to die tonight, unlike in my various dreams.

I guess it was pretty late, or early depending on how you think, because my vision hadn't had time to adjust to the darkness and I could still totally see Adrien. Shirtless and stricken, crouched in front of my window like he was about to jump into a fight.

I opened my mouth to wail again. He just as soon disappeared, or blurred, and there was a hand pressed against my mouth.

He looked straight into my eyes when he finally spoke, since he had to wait about thirty seconds for me to stop flailing. This was not a fight I would win, since he apparently had either super speed or teleportation powers. I even felt sure he was hypnotizing me with his dark gold irises and if I lived through this, I swore to myself to never look into them again.

"You _must_ keep quiet."

He held my gaze another ten seconds, before disappearing again. I was going with all of this in a pretty subdued manner—even with the almost screaming and body flailing against him—since I figured it was just another _very _realistic continuation of my dream. But he just made me think it was a dream with those weird, yet sexy, eyes.

I heard the floorboards creak right before Alyssa opened the door, half-sleep but obviously distressed. "I heard screaming."

"I'm alright, I'm just—it was just a bad dream that's all. I'm sorry to wake you," I must have whispered that jumbled up sentence about five times before she finally turned around and shuffled out of the room. It didn't take much convincing. My long-time social worker from back home, Michelle, must have told her about the dreams. Michelle and I used to talk really extensively about my dreams.

"You better not have left this room, Adrien, or I swear I'm calling the police right now," I hissed. I was practically shaking from head to toe. He stepped out of the closet slowly and I almost let out another screech. I hadn't bothered throwing my clothes down the laundry chute the last few days; there were clothes everywhere in there—underwear everywhere.

Why I was thinking this when Adrien had broken into my house and was currently planning the easiest way to murder me, I have no clue. It seemed important, though he was holding my life in his hands—even though he hadn't been violent yet, I knew he could do it; I felt that deep to the core—it was pivotal he never see my underwear.

"What on God's green Earth are you doing, in my room, at four o'clock in the goddamn morning," I asked, simultaneously picking my cell phone up from the table next to my bed. My thumb hovered above the emergency button.

"Please don't call the police; I'd be gone before they got here anyway," he sighed deeply, like he was the one who'd just been given the fright of their life. "And I promise you it would be better if I explained while you were wide awake, not just pulled from a nightmare."

"How'd you know it was a nightmare," I pulled my blankets up to my shoulders and tried to stop shaking.

"You screamed that's why I'm—," he closed his mouth and shook his head slightly.

"And you're going to explain all this at school tomorrow—or today? With everyone around?" I couldn't still me shaking and I probably would even if he left. I was almost hyperventilating too.

"I'm not going to school tomorrow." It was so dark that I could hardly see anything, apart from his eyes. I couldn't take my eye of his golden eyes, which were probably working some hardcore voodoo on me right now.

"Then I'm not either, Adrien," I was surprised at how sure of myself I sounded, "And whatever plans you have for skipping school are cancelled. You'll be back here once schools starts—through the door this time—and you're not leaving until I have an adequate explanation. If not, I will be calling the police. That I can guarantee you."

There was a facial expression change, I could tell by the light on his face. But I didn't know whether he was smiling or frowning or getting ready to attack me. His answer was slow, calculated. "That seems…reasonable."

Then he crouched back down, bounced on the balls of his feet a couple times, glanced at me—and for a split second I thought, this is it; he's going to pull out a knife or just do it with his bare hands—and then he leapt, head first, out of the window.

It took every single fiber of my being not to scream again. But I did scramble out of bed and to the window only to see he was gone, somewhere into the murky night. And he'd probably be somewhere in rural Texas by the time I called the police.

**A.N: Quick update right? YES! The next chapter will be very interesting…I can't wait to write it!**

**Thanks to ****Harlow Nicole****, ****HansWorth****, ****yesiluvthestage****, and ****TheAngelOfHope**** for reviewing!**


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